


Mayerling

by carmenta



Category: Elisabeth
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-01
Updated: 2006-12-01
Packaged: 2017-10-08 02:27:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/71740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carmenta/pseuds/carmenta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Good things come to those who wait.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mayerling

A shot.

A gasp.

The sound of a body falling amidst rustling garments.

Silence.

Death had waited for this moment to come, for far too long.

Mary Vetsera did not die quickly. Life trickled out of her in a steady draw, but to Death the temptation was muted. Only a girl, without spirit, without dreams. Nothing fascinating about her. All that mattered was that she had been the one to stand in his way by keeping Rudolf from giving in to his call for long months. And yet, in the end, she had been part of the reason why the crown prince was finally ready.

Stepping out from his shadowed corner, Death slowly approached the bed. Ornate, as everything in this room was. Almost overly so; he appreciated style, but he had never liked it when decorations were overdone. At least the colours were tastefully muted, lending the room a sombre air. Dark carpets with intricate designs, dark red curtains. Dark red blood on the hardwood floor, sharply contrasting the boards' grain. He cautiously avoided the spreading stain, unwilling to ruin its symmetry.

Rudolf looked up, his face pale.

"Mine, beautiful child," Death whispered. "I promised I would always be close."

A slow blink, then Rudolf's gaze returned to the girl on the bed. Pretty, with her dark hair, the careful coiffure now mussed, some hairpins dislodged so fine strands teased her shoulders. The whiteness of her cheeks did not match the light green dress, however, and neither did the blood spilling down her side.

She still lived, her chest barely rising with each strained breath, a feeble heartbeat which faded with every passing moment. Death doubted that Rudolf was aware of it, however; the prince was still staring at her, seemingly uncomprehending of the fight he witnessed.

Not long now, though the girl was not someone Death had yearned for. Women were boring at this age; too fluttery, their heads full of silly notions and without either beautiful, young idealism or the more shaded jadedness that came with age. He knew of only one exception, and while part of him still wished that he had claimed Elisabeth in her youth, full of innocence and joie de vivre, he was now almost glad that she had not given in to his temptation. Age became her; the strong spirit tempered with sadness was so much more promising. What a companion she would make!

"I killed her," Rudolf whispered.

"You did what you had to do," Death whispered back, sliding behind him onto the bed. He wrinkled his nose at the rumpled sheets and the scents of perfume and pleasure, but let it be. If that was what it took for Rudolf to have the courage necessary to finally come to him, then he would not speak of it.

Rudolf reached for the girl's hand, but then flinched back just before his fingers touched hers.

"She loved me," he said.

Death seized his wrist and held him back before he could once more attempt to touch her. There would be a thready pulse to feel, and he had no intention to let her take his prince away from him in her final moments. With precise care he snuffed out the last spark of life in her.

He did not care where she went. One soul among countless others.

Rudolf, on the other hand… Death could see his determination falter, and it angered him.

"She was not the only one to love you," he crooned, his thumb caressing the tender skin on the prince's inner wrist, tracing the fine veins. "You know it, Rudolf."

The prince shivered against him, leaning back just a little. An invitation Death gladly accepted; his arm slid around the slender waist, drawing him close.

"There is only me now," he whispered, his chin on Rudolf's shoulder. "Only you and me."

Unlike their past encounters, Rudolf did not shy away.

"Is it time, then?" he asked.

Releasing the prince's wrist, Death slowly ran gloved fingers up his clothed arm, lingering at the sensitive elbow for an instant, teasing, caressing before moving on. At the shoulder, delicate touches changed to deftness as his hand slipped inside the partly unbuttoned linen shirt.

"If you will it," he murmured into Rudolf's ear. "Just say it."

A soft gasp, and for a moment Death thought that Rudolf would break away once more. He'd have granted the escape, for one last time. But Rudolf merely raised his own hand to cover Death's.

"Please," the prince murmured, the plea barely audible but so plain in the way he twisted against Death and into his touches.

Death permitted himself a small smile.

"I could never deny you," he said. A kiss on the tender spot behind the ear, another where throat met jaw. Along the jaw line, feather-light, and Rudolf was allowing it, finally giving in, finally accepting this offer. Finally accepting Death.

More kisses, soft gasps of need, of delight, of desperation until Death claimed him.

A shot in the darkness.

Rudolf shivered in Death's embrace. Stilled.

"Mine," Death whispered.


End file.
